


The Virgin(s)

by Violet_Jones



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Lovers, High School, Locked In, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:47:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23628694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violet_Jones/pseuds/Violet_Jones
Summary: Ian & Mickey accidentally get locked in together after fighting at school.Based on the trope mash-up prompt: Locked in a room / Unexpected virgin
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 52
Kudos: 329





	The Virgin(s)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the Anon who prompted me during my trope-a-palooza phase on tumblr.

“Yo, Gallagher!”

The pair of brothers both turned at the summons.

“Who you talkin’ to, Milkovich?” asked Lip.

“You, numbnuts. Why the fuck what I need to talk to gingerballs here?”

Ian rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, mouth set in a grim line, chin tilted in defiance.

“The hell you want, then?” Lip inquired.

“I need another paper,” said Mickey. “History this time.”

“I don’t think so, you never paid me for the last English essay I wrote for you.”

“I ain’t askin’, dickbreath. I’ll have the cash for you in a week or two.”

“And I’m still sayin’ no. You can gimme what you owe and pay for the next one up front, or we’re done here. Not doin’ extra work for free for the likes of you.”

Mickey squared up and got in Lip’s face in an intimidating manner. The lunch room got quieter as people started to pay attention to their interaction. Ian dropped his arms and clenched his fists at his sides.

“You wanna fuckin’ die, bitch? I’ll pay you when and if I decide you need to get paid,” Mickey said, then shoved Lip back pretty hard.

He lost his balance, but didn’t fall, and Ian instinctually stepped between them.

“Fuck off, Mickey. He’s not doin’ shit for you,” he defended his older brother.

Mickey’s eyebrows got real high, which Ian knew was a warning sign, but he wasn’t about to back down now. He was sick and tired of this wannabe thug dipshit and the way he swaggered around intimidating everyone all the time just because people were scared of his family name. Maybe he _should_ fear Mickey, but he didn’t, and he would show it if he had to.

“Oh, so _you’re_ the tough guy in the family, eh? Fuckin’ army strong, or whatever? Step the fuck off and mind your business before I give you the beatdown your fuckass brother’s tryin’ to catch.”

“Ian,” Lip interjected in a cautionary tone.

But the younger Gallagher just shook him off. “Don’t think so, shithead.”

And then Mickey swung on him, which he was expecting, and pretty much needed to happen so that if some authority figure came along, he’d be the one merely defending himself after getting hit first. So he sacrificed his left eye by letting it get socked with a right hook, then pushed Mickey back and punched him in the mouth. Pretty soon they were both rolling around on the floor landing body hits as classmates gathered around to watch and holler. Eventually Mickey was on top of Ian, and Lip was able to wrap his arms around him and pull him off, throwing him to the ground as the crowd backed up.

As Mickey got back to his feet, a loud whistle erupted, and the crowd parted for one of the school coaches, who studied the scene with mild annoyance.

“Of course it’s Milkovich,” he said, shaking his head disdainfully, then spotted Ian on the floor. “Gallagher, what’re you doing? Captain’s gonna be pissed. Get up. Let’s go.”

Ian had some shit to say in his defense, but he wasn’t about to let it out in front of half the school. He followed the coach out of the cafeteria, Lip shooting daggers at him on the way past.

Once they were in the main office, Coach Ross simply said, “Explain.” Mickey went to talk, but the man held up his hand and pointed to Ian. “Nope. You.”

Ian smirked and shot Mickey a triumphant look. “He was harassing my brother and trying to start a fight with him. I stepped in and he punched me in the face, so I defended myself.”

“Way to be a fuckin’ rat, Gallagher,” spat Mickey.

“Can it, Milkovich. It’s not like I couldn’t have figured out the details on my own, not to mention all the witnesses. However…” He looked at Ian sternly. “I have a feeling your hard-ass of an ROTC instructor isn’t gonna let you slide just because you’re claiming self-defense. Looks like you gave as good as you got.”

Ian glanced at Mickey smugly, taking in the busted lip and yellowing bruise on his jaw. “Sure did.”

Mickey gritted his teeth menacingly. “Keep talkin’, Gallagher. Diggin’ your own grave here.”

Coach Ross cut him off. “Enough. Go to lunch and get to class, and do not touch each other again. Milkovich definitely gets detention; Gallagher, I’ll get back to you. Meet me here at the end of the day or I’ll make you regret it.”

  


That was how Ian ended up in the hot-ass sports equipment shed with Mickey fucking Milkovich after school. His rigid old asshole of an ex-Army Captain ROTC instructor had given the okay for Ian to be punished for acting in an unbecoming manner while wearing the uniform during school hours. He wasn’t really sure if that meant nothing would’ve happened to him had he not worn the fatigues all day, but whatever. It was still bullshit as far as he was concerned.

He shot another contemptuous look at the bastard that had started it all and landed him in this stupid mess. Ian was surprised he even showed up for detention. Mickey didn’t seem like the type to follow any sort of rules, including adhering to dished out sentences from shitty gym teachers. Somehow, instead of getting thrown into a classroom to stare at the wall for two hours with the rest of the ‘bad kids,’ they were being made to clean and organize this fucking outbuilding, likely so that Coach Ross himself wouldn’t have to. What a cocksucker.

Ian sighed and finally spoke. “You just gonna fuckin’ sit there holding your dick all afternoon? It’s your goddamn fault I’m here. I should be the one doing shit all while you do the actual work.”

“Fuck you,” said Mickey, flipping him off for further emphasis. “No one told your bitch ass to jump in and defend your older brother.” He snickered derisively.

“Yeah, well, Gallaghers stick together, and for your information, Lip is pissed at me for that too, on top of everything else.”

“Guess it sucks to be you, then, firecrotch. Make better choices.”

Ian guffawed sarcastically. “That’s rich coming from the king of shit life decisions.”

“‘Ey, you don’t know nothin’ about my life, so shut the fuck up before I hit you again.”

Ian stopped throwing baseball gloves into a box and turned fully toward the older boy. “Why are you even here? It’s not like prison where they actually force you to be there against your will. Aren’t you too _badass_ for detention?”

“Not that it’s any of your goddamn business, but I can’t just cut school anymore, cuz CPS has been all up our asses this year over some bullshit. I don’t attend, I _could_ actually be thrown in juvie, so keep your damn trap shut and do your thing.”

“Whatever,” said Ian, going back to the shelves he was working on.

They didn’t say another word to each other for at least an hour, the tension as thick and stifling as the humidity in the godforsaken room. Ian kept having to lift up his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face, and he was seriously considering just ditching the tee completely, but he didn’t want to give Milkovich another reason to rag on him.

After 15 minutes spent trying to untangle a damn soccer net, he spotted Mickey poorly attempting to juggle some tennis balls. Their school didn’t even have fucking tennis courts, so he didn’t know why they were there. He was considering grabbing something slightly heavy and chucking at Mickey’s useless head, since he was still refusing to help like he was supposed to. Ian figured it was the only way the guy could rebel against the system, and he obviously didn’t give a shit that it meant Ian had to the work for the both of them. But unless he wanted to come to blows again, there wasn’t much Ian could do about it, was there? He folded the net and set it aside, moving toward what looked like a bin of fucking dodge-balls.

“Fuck!” Mickey exclaimed, startling him. “What the hell time is it, man?”

Ian checked his watch. What the hell? “Shit. It’s fucking 6:15.”

“You fuckin’ serious? Ain’t this shit supposed to be over by 5:30?”

Ian nodded. “Usually, yeah.”

“Well, screw this, then. If that shit-for-brains lost track of time, it’s not my problem.” He stood up and dusted off his pants as if he’d been doing anything to get them dirty. “I'm gettin’ the hell outta here.”

Ian watched Mickey head for the door, supposing he should follow and try to find Coach Ross, but when Mickey reached it and turned the handle, nothing happened.

“What the fuck?” said Mickey, turning the knob again and obviously trying to force the door open with his shoulder. “You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me!”

Ian’s pulse quickened and he made his way over to test it. Sure enough, “It’s bolted from the outside. What the hell!”

He banged on the door with his fist, receiving no reply, and kept at it for as long as he could muster to no avail.

“I’m gonna murder that fuckhead, Ross, if he doesn’t show up in the next 10 minutes.” Mickey took his place, banging and kicking on the door fruitlessly.

“Holy shit,” said Ian when he’d relented. “What if he forgot about us?”

“How the fuck could he forget? He’d have to be a braindead moron.”

Ian just gave him a withering look.

“I see your point,” Mickey continued. “I will seriously fuck him up if that’s the actual case.”

“Maybe it’s okay. The janitor probably came by and locked up, but I’m sure Ross has a key too. He’s just makin’ us stay late.”

But 10 fucking minutes went by, then 15, then 20, then 30, and Ian wasn’t even gonna try to keep working, he was slowly becoming more pissed off than Mickey himself. That asshole, Ross, had confiscated both of their cell phones before tossing them in here. He better hope he wasn’t the one that had locked the fucking door, or Ian would help Mickey kill him. There weren’t even any fucking windows big enough to climb out of. They were those dumbass long and skinny ones that lined the top edges of the wall and could only be cracked to vent.

Ian finally got exasperated and hot enough to peel off his drenched tee shirt, and he climbed up to pop open every window he could as far as they would go. It didn’t help much. When he looked back toward Mickey, he was surprised to find him watching with what seemed almost like interest.

“What?” asked Ian.

“Nothin’,” Mickey replied, quickly averting his eyes, “just can’t believe I might be stuck with your lame ass for an entire fucking night.”

Ian snorted. “Yeah, cuz I’m super stoked to spend even more hours of my life trapped in a goddamn sauna with you. What if we pass out from dehydration? This clown needs to get sued for this shit.”

Mickey laughed sardonically. “Okay, Gallagher. You can pay for the lawyer and lemme know how that goes.”

Ian flipped him off and kicked a box clean across the room. Mickey watched it fly and smirked as Ian finally sat his ass down on the concrete floor.

“I guess if we have to sleep here, there are some gym mats in that corner. Skin’ll probly stick to it, though, from all the sweat.”

“Sounds kinky,” said Mickey, and Ian’s head snapped up.

“Huh?”

“That was a joke, Gallagher, or do you not know what the word means?”

“I know what the word means, asshole, it was just a weird joke to make.”

Mickey shrugged and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “What the fuck ever, man. If this asshole left us to rot in here, I’m gonna fuckin’ smoke, and he can suck my dick if he don’t like it.”

He lit up, and Ian yearned to ask for one, even though he was pretty parched, and in retrospect it was so dumb of him not to bring his water bottle. He sighed and glared up at the ceiling, when to his eternal shock, Mickey tossed the pack into his lap.

“I guess you can have one, since you did all the work.”

Ian stared at him for a moment, but figured he wouldn’t push his luck and question it, so he took one out and tossed the pack back, taking his own lighter from his pocket.

They smoked in silence at first, but Mickey interrupted it again. “So what’re you missin’ out on then? Hot date?”

Ian wrinkled his nose. “No. Just family shit with my siblings, I guess. Don’t have work tonight, or I’d be doing that.”

“Pussy,” Mickey randomly insulted. “You ain’t got a girlfriend?”

This was such an awkward and uncomfortable line of questioning. Why did Mickey care about his personal life? He was the last person Ian would ever want to reveal anything about his love life to. Not that there really was a love life, per se, but his persuasions would just get his ass more kicked by someone like Mickey.

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

His heart sped up a little. Did this fucker know something?

“Because… All the girls at this school are total skanks. I’m not interested in any of them.” That seemed like a semi-believable kind of lie, given it was partially true. Then again, he supposed since he was a 16-year-old guy, it probably made more sense to be into slutty chicks, just because they put out.

“Man, nothin’ wrong with bein’ skanky. If these bitches were halfway decent, they wouldn’t suck your dick just for askin' them to. Then I’d probly never get laid.”

Ian did his best not to make a sour face, or a retching noise. “Then I’ll leave the high school sluts to you and Lip. I’m good.”

“You sure about that, Red?”

Mickey was looking at him kinda funny now, and he definitely didn’t like that.

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.

Mickey shrugged casually. “Heard a little rumor floatin’ around recently… Somethin’ about that kid, Roger Spikey?”

Ian swallowed hard, but forced himself to remain calm. “The hell’s that got to do with me?”

“It was about the both of you. Somethin’ about blowjobs?”

Ian shot to his feet. “The fuck you just say to me?”

Mickey still looked nonchalant as ever. “You heard me. Did he blow you, or did you blow him, or was it a mutual thing?”

It only took a split second for Ian to react. He knew he had to defend himself to this prick and bury the truth right then and there if he didn’t want to end up having the rest of his time at school turn into a living nightmare. He strode forward, and with all the strength he could muster, hauled Mickey to his feet, slamming him bodily into the metal shelving behind him.

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

Mickey responded with an unexpected smile. “Oh no?”

And Ian didn’t see the head-butt coming. It flung him backward, and he pressed a hand to his forehead just as Mickey stepped in to knee him in the stomach. It fucking sucked, knocking the wind right out of him as he crashed to the ground.

For the second time that day, they tussled. When Mickey went to kick him in the side, he grabbed his boot and flung him sideways. It was another struggle for dominance, with one on top, then the other, until suddenly Ian was cringing up at Mickey waiting for the next blow to land. But it didn’t come. Instead, Mickey just stared at his face, legs splayed on either side of Ian’s body. He was confused for a moment, until he happened to look down, and that’s when he noticed the obvious boner inside of Mickey’s jeans.

He glanced from Mickey’s dick, up to his blue eyes, back to his dick, then to his mouth. And suddenly, Mickey was kissing him. Ian couldn’t even close his eyes at first, he was so surprised. But then he found himself pulling Mickey down harder, so that they were pressed closely against each other, and he finally let himself go, kissing back in earnest, and rolling them over so that he was more in control.

_What the fuck was happening?_

He was full-on making out with Mickey fucking Milkovich on the dirty floor of a goddamn shed on school property. After fighting him. Twice. And it wasn’t half bad either. It was actually… good. It was aggressive, but Ian kind of liked that, and there was a little too much tongue, but whatever. It wasn’t like Ian was an expert at kissing. He’d made out with a girl one time in middle school, cuz Lip made him, and he fucking hated it. Roger and him only hooked up a few times, and only one of them involved kisses.

But then Mickey grabbed Ian's cock through his pants, and while it sent a thrill through his body, it also jolted his brain back to reality. He pulled back abruptly and scurried away, putting distance between them as their chests heaved and they tried to catch their breath.

“What the fuck, Mickey?”

“What? You don’t want it?”

Ian shook his head. “I… I… didn’t even know about you…”

“Nobody fuckin’ does, Gallagher.”

“How’d you know about me? Who told you about Roger?”

“My sister. She said she tried to get with you and you wouldn’t, and then some chick told her about the Roger thing, so she put two and two together.”

Shit. He knew turning down Mandy Milkovich at that house party would come back to haunt him eventually. He should’ve just banged her like Lip told him to. It’s not like he was waiting to do it with someone he loved or whatever. But yeah, he did kind of want it to be with a dude when it finally happened. He supposed he just couldn’t sell himself out like that. He doubted he would’ve even been able to stay hard anyway.

“Fuck!” cried Ian. “So now everybody thinks I’m queer?”

Mickey shook his head. “Nah, if the wrong people had heard about it, you’d know by now.”

“And you’re not the wrong people?”

Mickey chuckled. “If I were, you think I woulda done what I just did?”

Ian exhaled loudly. “Shit, Mickey… this doesn’t make any sense.”

“What, that we’re both in the fuckin’ closet in high school on the south side? Makes a lotta sense to me.”

“I mean… you… you and me…”

“Why _not_ you and me?”

“You hate me! We kicked each other’s asses today. Twice!”

Mickey smiled somewhat alarmingly. “I thought it was pretty hot, though. Both times.”

“Jesus,” Ian said with a laugh. And suddenly it seemed extremely funny to him, and he couldn’t stop laughing, even though his ribs kinda hurt from earlier.

He was happy when Mickey laughed with him, and he finally calmed down a bit once it petered out.

“So you just a tease or what, Gallagher?” asked Mickey.

Ian shook his head. “You ever been with a guy?”

“Fuck no,” he said forcefully, and Ian almost got defensive again before he could continue. “Wanted to, of course, but… you don’t know my dad, man. I can’t be with guys cuz of him. He’d actually kill me. Like, in a non-metaphorical way. He’d shoot me with his fuckin’ shotgun and throw me in the lake.”

Ian hung his head, knowing it was probably true. He wasn’t exactly out to his whole family yet, but he knew they weren’t going to kill him for being gay once he finally made it known. He just wasn’t ready for full disclosure yet was all. He felt like it would make things change. He liked things the way they were.

“So you fuck girls and pretend to be straight?” asked Ian.

“Nah, ain’t fucked nobody. Just blowies and handies to throw Terry and my brothers off the scent. Makes it easier to close my eyes and think of some dude.”

Ian chortled, but then something dawned on him.

“Holy shit, so… You’re a virgin?”

And for the first time, Mickey finally looked uncertain. “Are you?”

That made Ian blush, which was pretty fucking embarrassing. Could he be anymore of a cliche?

“Yeah. Like you said, not exactly swimming in a sea of out guys at this school. Roger and I messed around a few times, but we didn’t fuck. And my pervy boss at the store I work at tried to get with me, but he’s old as shit, so I used that knowledge to extort his stupid pedo ass.”

Mickey cackled. “Damn, Gallagher. Way to hustle that shit.”

“Yeah, I get some sweet perks on top of my paychecks now.” He paused for a second. “So?” he pressed then. “Are you?”

Mickey sighed deeply and finally nodded. “Yeah. 17-year-old virgin shit-kicker. How’s that for a twist?”

Ian tittered. “Dude, pretty sure the gay thing was the bigger twist, don’t worry.”

They laughed again, and it seemed like a kind of comfort actually settled between them. This was the last way Ian pictured this day ending… making up and making out with a Milkovich boy. So fucking random.

“Look,” said Mickey in a serious tone, “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t. You got my word.”

Ian nodded. “Of course. The queers of Canaryville gotta stick together, right?”

“Right,” Mickey agreed. “So uh… about what happened between us…”

Ian looked around at the mess they’d managed to re-make during their… interlude. Fuck it, though, he figured it was payback for locking them in this shithole. And when he looked at Mickey again, he didn’t know exactly what to think. Just an hour ago, he thought the guy was the biggest jerk on campus and never wanted to see his face again. Now… they’d literally blurted out their darkest secrets to each other and gotten… _intimate_. And Mickey’s face wasn’t half bad.

“I’m, uh… a little confused, I guess,” Ian admitted.

“Okay,” replied Mickey. “But do you wanna maybe… do it again?”

“What, kiss you?”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “That sounds so fuckin’ gay.”

“It is gay,” said Ian. “Just like you.”

Mickey’s nostrils flared a little, but he nodded. “Yeah, whatever.”

“We could do it again, I guess.”

“Don’t do me any favors, Gallagher.”

“I’ll kiss you again if you call me Ian,” he challenged.

“Jesus Christ. You sure you ain’t a straight girl, cuz you kinda talk like one.”

“Fuck off.”

“Fine then,” Mickey relented. “C’mere, Ian.”

A little shiver ran up his spine, and he started crawling forward in what he hoped was a mildly seductive kind of way. This wasn’t the sexiest setting, but his shirt was still off, so maybe it worked.

Just as his lips were closing in on Mickey as he leaned forward in anticipation, a loud rattle came at the door, and Ian jumped back, clamoring to his feet.

Mickey rose beside him, and they both watched raptly as Lip came crashing into view.

“You boys okay in here?” he asked, smirking in the last fading light of the day.

“Lip!” Ian cried in relief. “Thank fucking god!”

He stumbled forward and hugged his brother with all his might.

“How the fuck did you get in here?” asked Mickey.

“Christ, put some goddamn clothes on,” Lip said to Ian, who immediately started gathering his things. “Hunted down the janitor. He’s cool.”

“What the fuck ever,” said Mickey, tone back to being brusque. “Where the hell is that asshole, Ross?”

Lip shrugged. “Beats me.”

“I need my goddamn phone back!”

“Yeah,” said Ian, nodding and putting his gross white tee back over his head. “That shithead has mine too.”

“Guess you’ll have to look for him, or get it tomorrow,” answered Lip.

“Fuck!” exclaimed Mickey, barging past them and out the door without another word.

“How was it bein’ stuck with Sergeant Slaughter for 6 hours?” Lip inquired.

Ian huffed a laugh. “You know what… it was… surprising.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

Ian shook his head. “I don’t know. We came to a truce I guess.”

Lip’s brow furrowed. “Really?”

“Yep.”

“Damn. I was kinda hopin’ you’d kick each other’s asses again.”

“I mean, we kinda did, but then—wait a minute.” He looked Lip intently in the eye. “You motherfucker. _You_ locked us in here!”

Lip cackled and threw his arms up in victory. “Surprise, bitch!”

“You fucking… I should sock you in the face, you asshole.” He pushed him half-heartedly instead.

“Look, you needed to learn to stick to your own fuckin’ battles, okay? You’re my fucking little brother. I don’t need your lily-white knight ass comin’ to my rescue like a chick. And Mickey needed to be knocked down a peg or two, obviously.”

“If Mickey finds out it was you, he’s gonna make you eat shit.”

Lip shrugged. “Guess you shouldn’t tell him then.”

He patted Ian on the cheek condescendingly and walked out.

“Un-fucking-believable,” Ian muttered, following him.

The school was completely deserted, and they didn’t run into anyone but the janitor, who said he couldn’t go opening teacher’s desks and searching for phones for them, so Lip returned his keys and they left.

As they walked past the park across the street from school, Ian spotted a figure that could only belong to Mickey smoking under a tree.

“Hey, uh, you keep walking. I’ll meet up with you at the corner store.”

Lip gave him a weird look, but agreed and walked on.

“Why’re you still lingering around here?” asked Ian as he approached.

“Ain’t exactly anxious to get back to my happy home,” said Mickey.

Ian nodded. “So, um, about before…”

“It’s cool, man. We’ll both keep our fuckin’ mouths shut, and that’s that.”

“That doesn’t have to be it, though. We can, like, hang out or something.”

“Hang out? You wanna hang out with me? Where?”

“Wherever. We can find a spot, and we can be friends, and we can kiss again, and maybe later we’ll do more.”

“You wanna do more?”

“Maybe. Later.”

Mickey snickered. “Right, girly Gallagher, I forgot. Shit. Fine. But that doesn’t mean that I’m datin’ your ass or anything. It’s just hangin’ out.”

Ian smiled. “Right.”

“You’re the one with the fuckin’ legit job and the ROTC bullshit, so I guess I’m gonna have to just wait for your call, huh?”

“I’m free on Thursday, actually.”

Mickey snorted. “Fine. Meet me over at the abandoned buildings on Warren after school. You got a gun?”

Ian's head snapped back. “Uhhh, no?”

“Fine, I’ll bring extra. It’s a good place to practice shooting. They do that shit in the army, right?”

Ian grinned again. “Yeah. I’m a really good shot.”

“Fine, then you can prove it.” And with that, Mickey turned and walked into the night, calling over his shoulder, “Bye, Ian.”

His goofy grin stayed in place the whole way home.

  


  



End file.
